


Castles in the Clouds

by Kereea



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book Spoilers, Casterly Rock, Conspiracy, Developing Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, For Want of a Nail, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kereea/pseuds/Kereea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tywin dies instead of Joffery, King’s Landing falls to chaos. In the midst of it all Tyrion gathers his wife, his Shae, his squire, and his sellsword and takes ownership of his inheritance: Casterly Rock. But can they build a place for themselves there while the world is still falling down?<br/>Warning: Author with a love of architecture on board!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we arrive and plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since I saw the sketchy picture of Casterly Rock, I knew I had to figure out what it looked like and set a fic there. And so we have this! And about eight pages of graph paper with what I think its structure is like...I'm such a nerd.  
> The fic starts about a month after the Purple Wedding (so spoilers for that part), but flashbacks shall fill you in! Onward!

“It’s…massive,” Sansa breathed as Casterly Rock loomed closer.

“Like the gods just said ‘yep, let’s drop a big hunk o’ rock here by the sea where everything else is flat,” Bronn agreed. “An’ then someone made a castle outta it.”

“We shall need to do a lot of cleaning house,” Tyrion said. “My father’s old guard will have to learn that they have a new lord.”

“Right. Who do I fight first, then?” Bronn asked idly.

“ _No one_. For now you guard me. Pod is guarding the ladies,” Tyrion said.

“And what are we ladies doing?” Shae asked.

“Whatever you wish. Make rooms more livable, endear yourselves to the servants, lord your positions over lesser ladies,” Tyrion said. “By the way, Shae, I have invented the position of The Lady’s Chief Companion for you. Gives you essentially all the power Sansa has.”

“So, how is the game different here?” Sansa asked lightly.

Tyrin smiled sadly at her masked tension, “Well, in this game, we hold all the cards. The rock can easily be fortified against outside invasions, thus removing too much need to please King’s Landing. Frankly once our power is consolidated I shall declare myself neutral.”

“Why?” Shae asked.

“Because it will piss off my sister and Joffrey, why else?” Tyrion chuckled.

.o.o.o.

“Much better than the Eyrie,” Bronn noted. “Got a sun door to match their moon one?”

“Only if I want prisoners dropped into my gold mines,” Tyrion chuckled. “Well, Ser, as my new captain of the guard, what have you to report?”

“Outer walls are decent enough, and the lion’s mouth is as impassible as ever,” Bronn said. “Some of the towers have access issues I want looked at. Too many ways into rooms I don’t think should be that accessible.”

“Such as?”

“Master of Coin’s room. Lady Sansa’s room. My room.”

“Say no more.”

“Your uncle says he wants to talk,” Bronn added. “Said I’d let you know.”

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion said. “My father did leave him in charge after all.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“No plan. Casterly Rock is my birthright,” Tyrion said. “My uncle knows that and has no real reason to contest me.”

“But you need him to not contest you.”

“My, my, you are getting cleverer,” Tyrion said. “My father is dead. It might be incredibly obvious that Baelish is the killer, but that will not absolve me in others’ eyes. I have a certain reputation.”

“Which is odd, since you’re not half the backstabber as most who play your politics games,” Bronn said.

‘You’re bring quite kind.”

“Captain of the guard gets a pay raise, right?”

“A decent one, yes,” Tyrion said.

“Ah, then we are still the best of friends.”

“At this rate you should stop calling _Shae_ my whore. I’m not paying her anymore, after all.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want to fuck me, now do you?”

“But you are the only one here I pay for your time.”

Tyrion smirked at the look on Bronn’s face. The swordsman at last recovered, “Tell no one.”

“I’ll think about it.”

.o.o.o.

_Joffrey had been riding high at the feast, and so Tywin had casually switched his own weak spirits for the potent wine in his grandson’s cup. Joffrey could be uncontrollable at the best of times, so Sansa silently applauded her husband’s father for his foresight._

_Joffrey drunk was not something she liked to entertain the notion of._

_Tywin had been talking with Cersei and Loras, telling them to prepare for their own wedding, when he took a sip._

_Sansa had paid no heed, too busy congratulating Margaery on her new position as queen as Tyrion subtly complimented the girl for bringing his nephew to heel. Or as close to that as Joffrey ever got, he had noted as the young king loudly contemplated to Ser Meryn about making an acrobat walk a wire over a flaming pit._

_There had been a loud clatter as the goblet hit the ground._

_“Father?” Cersei had asked, tentatively reaching for him._

_“Lord Lannister?” Loras asked, eyes widening in shock. “What is wrong?”_

_Tywin sank to his knees, clawing at his throat._

_“Father!” Tyrion said, hurrying over as best he could._

_“King’s…goblet…” Tywin choked._

_“What?” Cersei asked._

_“He swapped cups with the king. Someone has tried to kill Joffrey,” Loras said flatly._

_Too flatly. Sansa thought him better than that—the man knew how to act empathetic when needed, after all._

_She felt it odd._

_The party dissolved into chaos. Cersei shrieked and held her father’s body, Tyrion ordered the kingsguard to Joffrey and Margaery, and Sansa was seized by Bronn and Podrick and taken back to her chambers, too shocked to move or even tear her eyes away from the scene._

_The last thing she saw as she was dragged from the yard was Joffrey screaming for blood, for the blood of the traitors who’d **dared** try and harm him. _

.o.o.o.

“Less hidden paths between rooms, even if there’s a few too many ways in here,” Shae said approvingly of Sansa’s new apartments. “If we bolt the doors, no one could get in but through the window.”

“They’d be a fool to try,” Sansa said, glancing out. A railing had been attached to the wall, likely to save someone wandering in the dark from the steep drop off the side of the tower.

“Bronn’s done something similar, from what I know,” Shae said. “Still, much more secure than court.”

“What sort of rock is this?” Sansa wondered. “It’s not that rough, but it’s not shiny like marble, either.”

“I’m not sure. Of course there’s so much gold about I doubt anyone care about the rocks,” Shae chuckled. “Still, it’s pleasing enough in color, yes? Better than dreary gray.”

Sansa nodded, still eyeing the pale brown stone, “Much.”

It was still the lair of the Lannisters. And though Tyrion tried, though he never forced her or harmed her…the Red Wedding, as it was called, lay heavy on her heart.

Shae, though, Shae she could trust. Shae might have been Tyrion’s, but she was protective of Sansa all the same and disdained the game of thrones. If Tyrion tried anything with Sansa in his playing the game, Shae would never let him get away with it.

Shae was safe. Tyrion might yet prove to be so too.

.o.o.o.

“So you’re going to King’s Landing?” Tyrion asked.

“I missed my brother’s funeral. I missed the interrogations and hearings,” Kevan said. “I must at least see his tomb.”

“It is a good tomb, as much as a tomb can be,” Tyrion said.

“So, why do you think Baelish did it?”

“I’m not so sure he acted alone,” Tyrion mused. “Littlefinger acts only when he is to gain. What would he get from killing Joffrey?”

“Was Joffrey stopping him from something? In the way?” Kevan asked.

“Now there’s an idea…” Tyrion mused. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Littlefinger had a bad habit of surprising my wife in the halls. She might know something.”

.o.o.o.

_“You need to come with me.”_

_“The lady goes nowhere,” Shae said sternly. “Sansa, stay behind me.”_

_“I’m trying to save you!” Petyr protested. “Tyrion is already under suspicion for killing his father-”_

_“That’s absurd. He’d never do that,” Sansa said._

_“Your lord husband is far worse a man than you seem to realize, Sansa. I promise to protect you. We’ll go to your aunt, in the Eyrie,” Petyr said._

_Sansa swallowed. If Tyrion was found guilty, whether or not it was true…she’d have no protection. She’d be vulnerable. Again._

_“What makes you so sure Tyrion will be charged at all?” Shae asked suspiciously. “Your spies know something? Or are they spreading rumors?”_

_Sansa came to her senses—this was the man who had betrayed her father! “I will not go with you. In fact, I should wonder why you are fleeing King’s Landing at all if you are innocent!”_

_“Listen to me, dear girl-”_

_“Podrick!” Sansa screamed, unsure of what else to do._

_Shock flickered across the Petyr’s face for a moment, but then he was seized by a glowering Pod and thrown bodily from the room. The squire nodded at the ladies before stepping out and shutting the doors firmly behind him. There was no sound of a fight, but they could hear Petyr running._

.o.o.o.

“Even with our workforce reduced thanks to having so many men in the field, we’ve been turning a profit,” Kevan said.

“That is good,” Tyrion mused. “After dealing with Littlefinger’s…creative…accounting financial solvency is rather nice.”

“I have always been good with numbers,” his uncle chuckled. “I’ve heard rumors of there being some…stipulation behind this visit?”

“We have no real claim to Winterfell until the Lady Sansa bears me a child,” Tyrion said flatly. “The stress of the court seemed to be affecting her ability to conceive. So long as she appears pregnant by twelve moon cycles I will not be summoned back to court.”

“Twelve? Generous of the king,” Kevan noted.

“I doubt my nephew wants to see me any sooner than he must,” Tyrion replied. “I _may_ have smacked him for his senselessness a few times during my tenure as hand, and with father dead I’m a likely choice for the position…hence his wanting to keep my away.”

“Your father never wanted you to have this place.”

Tyrion tensed. Kevan, Jaime, and Cersei were the only ones who knew that, knew that Tywin had sworn his youngest should never have their home.

“But as I see it, you’re our once chance for Lannister children,” Kevan said. “Your sister shall only bear Tyrells now, if she does at all.”

“There’s always Tommen.”

“Aye, there is Tommen, but he adores his Uncle Tyrion who tells him stories and sneaks him kittens to play with,” Kevan said, smiling. “He’d never take this away from you.”

“Well, he is a child now. When he’s grown and realizes there is no throne for him and he must marry into another house he might think he’d rather be Lord Lannister.”

“Well I suppose he likes lions as much as other cats,” Kevan mused. “Still, let’s focus on winning the war we face now, eh Tyrion?”

“Aye, uncle,” Tyrion said, turning to look out the eastern window. “Aye.”

.o.o.o.

“Shae, really, you don’t have to help me with this anymore.”

“It’s my job. Handmaid or lady-in-waiting, it’s _my_ damn job to keep this lovely hair of yours as silken as can be,” Shae admonished as she carefully braided Sansa’s hair for dinner. “How does a lady-in-waiting _wait_ , exactly?”

“I don’t know. I used to think they waited for marriage, but quite a few ladies, like one of Margaery’s, are married,” Sansa mused. “Of course, if their position as a lady in waiting is higher than whatever their husband does at court, that might be why they stay on.”

“Well, if it’s for marriage, I shall be waiting long indeed,” Shae chuckled.

“Shae!” Sansa laughed. “I’m not blind. I may be his lady, but you my dear woman are his _queen_.”

“You know, that’s the one queenship I’d take,” Shae said. “Queen of the Cleverest Lion of House Lannister. Nice ring to it. I’ll still stab him if he beds you without your permission, though.”

“Thank you, Shae,” Sansa said, having long since learned that was the proper response to give to Shae’s various plots against various men and their manhoods.

“Ah, already you conspire against me, ladies?” Tyrion asked as he entered. “I thought we were better than that.”

“You, good sir, are _not_ too good to be a schemer,” Shae said.

“I meant between us, dear one,” Tyrion said. “I know what the fearsome miss Shae would do to me if I even thought of plotting something sinister against our dear sweet she-wolf.”

“She-wolf?” Shae mused. “I like it. Much better than dove, yes Sansa?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, smiling slightly.

“Well, now that we all approve of that pet name, what were you ladies discussing?” Tyrion asked, settling onto a low couch.

“What exactly I do as a lady-in-waiting,” Shae said. “Since it is clear I am not ‘waiting’ for anything.”

“You are above even an ordinary lady-in-waiting, dear,” Tyrion said, seizing a cup of wine. “You are second only to Lady Sansa among the women here.”

“Well, frankly I don’t know much what to do with myself either,” Sansa admitted.

“I am going to have some of the guards give you and Podrick the tour. Bronn’s already given himself one,” Tyrion said. “After that you may do as you please. Mingle with the minor nobles of the Rock and Lannisport, sew, sing, read, study something you wish to study, boss around some people…”

“I’ll like that last one,” Shae said, smirking.

“As long as it’s nothing too overt, no one will even think of reporting it to King’s Landing,” Tyrion said. “Though I’d prefer you stay within the Rock for now. At least until the realm’s sorted itself a bit.”

“Shae, there’s a dance I simply _must_ teach you after we’ve seen the sights,” Sansa said. “Margaery showed it for me and it is amazing!”

Shae smiled, “I’d like that, dear.”

Sansa grinned proudly, before turning to Tyrion, “So…you said here is a game we can win. But there is still a bigger game going on.”

“Clever girl. Don’t know how you never played before now,” Tyrion mused.

“Because I was an idiot who thought Joffrey loved me,” Sansa said tightly.

“Well, now you know otherwise, sweetling, so let us put your clever, courteous ways to use with my dastardly ways and Shae’s subtle ones, shall we?” Tyrion asked. “Yes. There is a bigger game. We may be far from it, but it can affect us. You know the stipulation for our staying here.”

Sansa nodded, “I must become pregnant within twelve moon cycles.”

“True. So, we have some options,” Tyrion said. “We could fake a pregnancy and a miscarriage, though that might require a high degree of complexity in properly faking. We could see how the game changes and see if suddenly a Lannister heir to the north is no longer so important. Or we could, well, get you with child which you have indicated is not a preferred option.”

Sansa swallowed, “If the…I mean if the sixth moon occurs and the game has not changed enough…I think we should go with that option. Even if this isn’t King’s Landing, we’re all going to be watched. So…let us settle in and then, well…”

“Shae, could you perhaps talk with our sweet girl about these things?” Tyrion asked, carefully keeping his voice even. “I am given to understand that her knowledge of the subject is not the best.”

“Really now?” Shae asked.

“The Lady Margaery warned me not to harm her despite her ‘inexperience’ shortly before our wedding,” Tyrion said.

“She did know…many things. Though now that I think about it, it was probably her grandmother who talked about them to her, not her mother,” Sansa said. “It would be very like Lady Olenna.”

“Well, my lady, I shall simply have to educate you,” Shae said calmly. “And Tyrion, if you take that as an invitation to do anything without her say-so-”

“I shall be gelded before finishing the sentence stating my intent to do so,” Tyrion said dryly. “Yes, Shae, I believe we are all quite clear on that point.”

Sansa giggled slightly.

“Ah, see how she already smiles!” Tyrion said proudly. “Well, a major goal of moving here has been met already! Gods be praised!”

“A good omen,” Shae said.

“Now, I believe it is my privilege to escort two lovely ladies to dinner,” Tyrion said. “Or it would be if I hadn’t asked Pod to bring it up.”

“Why?” Sansa asked.

“Well, I thought we might go over our plans tonight, as we have already started. Also, Shae, I care for you deeply my dear but…you have never dined at such a table. Sansa and I are going to have to give you some tips.”

“Ah. Well in that case, be careful with your tongue during those tips, my lion, or you’ll have a lonely first night home,” Shae teased.

“I think I shall handle the wine,” Sansa declared.

“Don’t trust us with it, sweet wolf?” Tyrion asked.

“No,” Sansa said firmly.


	2. Chapter 2: Kings of Carven Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Casterly Rock is explored and announcements are made.

Casterly Rock was stunning in its enormity. What you could see after entering through the Lion’s Mouth to the east was merely a hint as to its glory. The great walls with their towers facing north, south, and west stared out at the world with only the central tower and its special contraption for lighting the way for ships taller.

Tyrion had explained it involved reflecting lantern lights in a very specific way to guide ships in at night or poor weather, but Sansa and Shae had both admitted to not really understanding it. It was apparently the secret behind why Lannisport got far more ships than any other western port, even more important than the gold.

The central tower sat atop a fortress that had four smaller towers, one along each wall. It seemed to all be carved from the same rock and the seamlessness of it was a marvel. Tyrion called the stone “greywacke” a sort of rock commonly found in other peaks on the western coast. He admitted the name predated House Lannister and noted that his father had personally hated having to say it, since it sounded so frivolous.

Being Tyrion, he therefore used the name as much as possible when describing the castle.

Below the central fortress were the massive tunnels into the mountain, where Tyrion had left their group as he had business to attend to. The guards had been much more careful with Shae and Sansa than they had been aboveground, which Sansa supposed was due to the dimly lit corridors and winding passages. Someone who did not know their way could get lost quite easily.

Shae noticed the forges first, where the gold was purified into bricks. Sansa had found that less interesting than the smiths working on various bits of iron finery and weapons off to the side, the sparks from their hammers bouncing merrily off the walls.

“Food stores are further down, my lady,” Ser Giral told Sansa.

“Do people actually live down here?” she asked.

“Some of the smiths do. And the miners. Some guards like it better down here. And of course the prisoners, down much deeper,” Giral said. “The Eyrie may have its famed sky cells, but we have the dark cells.”

“Let us not talk of cells,” Shae said sharply, seeing Sansa pale.

“Well, the servants live here at the rock, of course, but most make their homes aboveground,” Giral continued. “Lovely garden on the top of the keep’s south tower. Lady Joanna planted it.”

Sansa nodded. Her own rooms were in the west tower, as were Tyrion and Shae and all other important peoples’. No attack from the sea could breach the walls, much less fire volleys over them, so that was the safest side for such rooms.

At Winterfell Sansa had never thought much of the sea. At King’s Landing she had seen it as a possible escape, or, during the Blackwater, a great threat. Here she saw beauty, for her window was just enough to the left of the west watchtower that she could see the vast expanse of blue water. If she leaned out a bit and looked south she could see the bustling Lannisport, and see the Lannister wealth’s effect on trade.

If she climbed into the central tower, she was sure she could see the waves crashing against the bottom of the cliff base, so far below the walls.

“So most live in the lower rooms of the keep or some older rooms in the east tower,” Giral finished.

“I see. Thank you,” Sansa said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“No thanks needed, my lady,” Giral said, bowing. “Though I agree with Lord Tyrion’s suggestion that you should stay above most of your time. Easier to find your way, at least.”

“Will we be walking the wall as well?” Shae asked.

“It’s a long walk, my lady, with many stairs,” Ser Forbras said. “And first we must get back up to ground level.”

“Another day then?” Sansa asked Shae, who nodded. If nothing else the view from those walls would be fantastic.

“We shall see what our schedule permits, I’m afraid,” Forbras said. Giral nodded.

“Or I could take them,” Pod said.

Giral stared at the squire. “He talks?”

“Podrick is a man of few words,” Sansa said.

“Ah. My apologies then, Podrick,” Giral said.

Pod nodded silently, a slight smile as his acceptance.

.o.o.o.

“Why do I have to wear one of _her_ dresses?” Shae asked, poking the red fabric distastefully.

“Because Sansa is both taller and less curved than you, my lady. I mean it as no insult, but your form is more similar to my sister’s,” Tyrion said. “Your travelling dress is all well and good for traipsing about the Rock, but this is a formal occasion.”

“We’ll have some new dresses made for you soon, Shae,” Sansa said. “I could use a few too. Mine are getting tight around the chest and hips.”

“That’s because you weren’t done growing when those were made,” Shae said. “I might be the worst sewer of any handmaid, but even I know dresses can’t grow with you.”

“You can look at fabrics in the morning. Oddly enough, your clothing will likely be one of the things reported to King’s Landing, so choose carefully,” Tyrion cautioned. “I know our she-wolf looks dashing in blues and grays of various hues and less-so in red, but she is Lady Lannister now and if she’s seen dressing too like a Stark…”

“I understand,” Sansa said.

“Of course clothing will be reported, your dear sister wants to be the one to have the most outrageous fashion in the seven kingdoms, after all,” Shae chuckled.

“Will she be there long, though? She was to marry Loras,” Sansa said.

“Ah, but that machination was my father’s. With both Cersei and the Queen of Thorns against it, not to mention the current queen who sometimes can get a bridle on Joffrey, the match will probably be broken up,” Tyrion said. “However even a dunce like Joff can see the value of the heiress to the North, so I’m afraid you will have no such luck, my lady.”

“You know, I don’t mind so much,” Sansa said. “After…what happened to my family…well, I became a great prize. A great token to be bartered off for alliances or money or…anyway, Lannister though you are, Tyrion, you have been nothing but kind to me, and you do not abuse the rights our marriage gives you over me. I would rather be bound here, the Lady of Casterly Rock, with my dear friends beside me, than thrust back into the game with no hope beyond being a bargaining chip.”

“Smile, lady,” Tyrion counseled. “That will not happen. Shae and I like you too much to let you go, especially back into the claws of the game all alone.”

Sansa smiled and dried her eyes, “Well, shall we present ourselves?”

.o.o.o.

The banquet hall was easily as grand as the one her wedding feast had been in. The most eye-catching detail was a massive window of colored glass that faced west with a roaring lion as its subject.

“You’ll want to watch it as the sun sets further,” Tyrion said softly. “One of the most fantastic decisions my grandfather ever made, that.”

“The food is…good,” Shae said. Sansa smiled, the woman seemed to have no idea what to do with such large portions.

“You needn’t eat it all,” she counseled. “The scraps are usually given to the poor.”

It was why Joffrey and Cersei both tried to make sure everyone cleaned their plates at King’s Landing. It was considered quite uncouth by most nobles. Margaery was hopefully fixing that.

“The meat ones, yes. The plant scraps are used to keep my late mother’s garden fresh,” Tyrion said.

Shae nodded, looking a bit more relaxed. Cersei’s old dress fit her rather well, clothing her in red and orange. Sansa’s own gown was a pale gray-violet with red details, though she noticed many were starting to fray at the edges. Her hair was piled high in a single thick braid and styled with a scarlet ribbon woven throughout, giving her a bit more of her new house’s color to wear.

The nobles and knights and more important smallfolk of Casterly Rock had all been murmuring during the meal.

“I suppose I should stand on my chair to speak,” Tyrion mused. “Well, smile, ladies. Here we go.”

Tyrion’s knife hit his goblet perfectly, sending a reverberating note through the whole hall. Tyrion stood up on his chair to be able to see them all as they fell silent. “Good evening.”

There were several murmurs to the extent of “good evening Lord Tyrion” but most stayed silent.

“As you know, my father, the Great Lion himself, was killed by a poisoned cup meant for our king. He may have been considered old by some, but I think he was still rather in his prime, making this a great tragedy.”

Sansa and Shae shared looks as Tyrion continued the eulogy. Sansa knew he had to win over a large number of people very quickly, but speaking of his father so kindly was likely annoying her husband. She assumed he’d told himself it was all a great joke to cope.

“So now I am Lord of Casterly Rock,” Tyrion concluded. “And your loyalty now lies with me. You shall continue to go about your business for the most part, I have no immediate changes I need besides those concerning the people at this table.”

Sansa swallowed.

“This is my wife, Lady Sansa Lannister. You will treat her with the utmost respect and should you not I will know and be very displeased,” Tyrion said. “Beside her is the Lady Shae, her authority is second only to Lady Sansa in the ladies’ matters of the Rock. To my left is Ser Bronn of Blackwater, he will be in charge of my personal guard, pay him no real mind, truly.”

Bronn rolled his eyes and took a deep drink of wine.

“And to round out our merry band of newcomers we have Podrick Payne,” Tyrion said. “He has been my loyal squire for a long time now and saved my life at the Battle of Blackwater. He has faithfully served as a guard for my wife as well. So, in honor of his dedication, his loyalty, and his courage, I now name him _Ser_ Podrick Payne, Knight of House Lannister.”

Sansa and Shae applauded along with the rest of the hall.

“Good move,” Sansa noted. Such a show of benevolence and reward for loyalty would be remembered.

“My dear, you know you married a man of the game,” Tyrion replied as he sat back down.

“Good job, lad, good job,” Bronn told a stunned Pod.

“Pod, you are a knight now and your primary duty shall be the defense of our ladies. Am I clear?” Tyrion asked.

“Yes, m’lord,” Pod agreed.

“We’ll get you better armor soon, I promise. After we get the ladies their new dresses. Thank goodness Bronn and I still have serviceable clothes,” Tyrion chuckled, drinking some more wine.

.o.o.o.

“Now you see, the beauty of these chambers is that there is a door between yours and Shae’s,” Tyrion said. “So you two may seek each other whenever you please.”

“And so milord can get a good fuck if he needs one,” Shae said.

“Well, yes, that too,” Tyrion said. “Now, how did you ladies like the Rock?”

“It’s amazingly complex,” Shae said. “Anyone ever venture into the tunnels and never be seen again?”

“I’m sure one or two. None that I know of,” Tyrion said.

“Well, that’s a comfort. You and Ser Giral both mentioned a garden?” Sansa asked.

“My mother’s,” Tyrion said. “On the south tower. You know, I’ve never really walked through it.”

“Truly?” Shae asked.

“Cersei and my father would have been very upset with me. I vaguely recall Jaime carrying me through it when I was quite young, perhaps six,” Tyrion said. “Don’t really remember much, though.”

“Well, perhaps we could go see it together tomorrow?” Sansa asked.

“I’m afraid I shall be quite busy tomorrow and so shall you ladies. Being fitted for gowns can be a long task, after all,” Tyrion said. “And I have many accounts and trade books and oh so much else to look at. My uncle has offered to give me a hand before he rides at noon. So perhaps another time.”

“Well, since I doubt anyone is tired enough to sleep just yet, let’s play a game,” Shae offered.

“No wine this time,” Tyrion said. “Our dear she wolf doesn’t have our tolerance, Shae.”

“No, no, not that one. One of us asks another a silly question and the third must figure out what the correct answer is. Let me start. Sansa, what is your favorite color?”

Sansa went to answer before realizing it was actually Tyrion’s job to. “While she looks lovely in many blues and teals, I know the lady adores lavender. She mentioned so in the gardens at King’s Landing.”

“Ah! How silly of me! My lord’s turn now,” Shae said.

“Sansa, what is Shae’s…favorite drink?”

“Ale…chilled ale?” Sansa asked.

“Close, dear, chilled cheap mead,” Shae said. “So now I go again. Sansa, what is Tyrion’s favorite thing to do?”

“Prove he’s smarter than others by insulting them in a way they don’t think to object to,” Sansa said instantly.

“Bravo, my lady. Your turn,” Tyrion said.

“Tyrion, what was Shae’s favorite part of King’s Landing?” Sansa asked.

“Why, the two of us, of course,” Tyrion said.

“Can I help it? Everything else there was shit,” Shae said airily. “Tyrion, come on now.”

“Sansa, what is Shae’s favorite way of doing her hair?”

“Loose as can be,” Sansa said. “Hmm…Shae, how often did you see Tyrion at King’s Landing?”

“Well that’s not really about me, is it?” Tyrion complained. “It varied, didn’t it?”

“I think so. Never more than once a week, though often less,” Shae said.

“I was asking to see if you’d be honest,” Sansa said. “I want to tell you…I have not slept well these last few weeks.”

“Even after leaving King’s Landing?” Tyrion asked. “We were sure that would ease most of your troubles.”

“I imagine the Red Wedding,” Sansa said. “Imagine I’m there and cannot do anything. Or there and butchered with the rest.”

“Sansa. You are safe here,” Tyrion said, taking her hand in both of his. “Remember my vow, lady. I shall never harm you.”

“For so long I dreamed of…of going home. Going north,” Sansa said, tears coming to her eyes. “But there is no north anymore. There’s no home. The Starks, the Tullys, they’re gone. All that’s left is my half-brother at the Wall, if he’s still alive.”

“You have us, Sansa,” Shae said, taking her other hand. “And we shall never let you go.”

“I know it is not your beloved north, but Casterly Rock is yours now,” Tyrion said. “I may run the accounts and the mines and such, but you may decorate it as you will, hold dances and gatherings of the ladies, whatever you wish. I do not care about those things much anyway, but if they bring you happiness then they are great.”

He stood and poured himself some wine, “You and Shae…you do not see me as the half-man, the demon monkey, but simply Tyrion, and for that I owe you everything I can give. Including protection from the game. And I _will_ protect you from the game.”

Sansa smiled and leaned against Shae, who held her tight.

“The iron throne may hold a mad king,” Shae murmured into her hair. “But here, sweet wolf, _we_ are the kings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilariously I only noticed after writing this and some of the later chapters that of the early chapters, this is the only one without flashbacks. Don't worry. They're be back. With a vengeance.  
> Greywacke is a real stone. And yes, I decided that big central tower holds a lighthouse. Why else have a big central tower close to the sea?


	3. Accounting for Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sansa and Shae handle their wardobes while Tyrion handles the money and their reputations

“Please hold still, Lady Shae,” the seamstress said for the dozenth time.

“I’m beginning to see why you didn’t like your fittings back at King’s Landing,” Shae said, struggling to hold herself the way she was being prodded to.

Sansa smiled and held her arms out for another servant to finish her measurements. She was used to these things. The real reason she’d hated the King’s Landing fittings was that Cersei was always there and always picking fabrics Sansa looked horrid in. “Shae, you’ll look gorgeous in it.”

“Now I’m to understand we’re starting with normal two dresses each and then one each for special occasions?” the head seamstress asked. “Oh this orange is lovely, Lady Shae, it really makes your hair stand out.”

Sansa had chosen just enough red and gold to look a Lannister lady in her fabric choices, though most of that was for the under-dresses, while the surcoats were cooler colors and, in one case, a blue so dark it could easily be mistaken for purple. “Yes. The red with the gold and navy embroidery for my formal one, I think. And a teal surcoat.”

Shae on the other hand was mostly being clad in bold oranges and purples, though one particularly lovely golden yellow was set aside for most casual dress’ surcoat.

“I’m just not used to—ow!—this,” Shae told Sansa. “You did that on purpose!”

“I did no such thing,” the seamstress said. “If you cannot hold still it’s not my fault, my lady.”

“Shae, pretend you are a statue. Pretend you’re part of the Rock,” Sansa said. “Just close your eyes and think of other things and it will be over soon.”

.o.o.o.

_“What did he want?” Shae whispered as Baelish ran off. “Sansa, what did he want? Why would he think you would…”_

_“I don’t know!” Sansa said, tears coming to her eyes. “He’s made such hints before, to take me away but I can’t trust him, I can’t, I know he helped get my father killed and, and…”_

_She broke down sobbing in her maid’s arms._

_“Shh. Hush sweet girl. You’ve had a lot of frights today, haven’t you?” Shae asked, petting her hair. “It will work out. Things will work out, you’ll see.”_

_“Shae, what if he was telling the truth? What if Tyrion is suspected?” Sansa shuddered in her handmaid’s arms. Tyrion was her only defense, her only real defense in court. Margeary could deflect, but Sansa knew she’d never risk turning Joffrey’s lust to ire, even for a friend._

_“They have no reason to, pet. You told me yourself, Tywin took the_ king’s _cup. Why would Tyrion kill the king? He’s worked so hard to keep the boy on the throne and in line. And Tyrion couldn’t make his father take another’s cup, could he?”_

_“N-no. He had n-not even spoken to his father for the entire reception. He was w-with me. Talking to Margaery,” Sansa said._

_“See? I’m sure the queen will put in a good word for him too, I know she adores you,” Shae soothed. “It will be fine, sweetling.”_

_Sansa wanted to believe those words so badly as they sank to the ground, holding each other tightly. But she’d been in King’s Landing so long that her ability to hope was quite diminished, leaving her little but fear._

_That was how Tyrion found them hours later, kneeling on the floor and dreading any news. “Are you all right? Pod said Littlefinger was in here.”_

_“He wanted Sansa,” Shae said, not letting her lady go. “We don’t know why.”_

_“He always liked Catelyn Stark. Perhaps a final repentance?” Tyrion mused. “The guards saw Podrick throw him out, but no one’s seen him since.”_

_“He said he was leaving King’s Landing,” Sansa said. “That he had a way to leave. He wanted me to come.”_

_“Well, then I think we have our poisoner. Pod, I know you can hear me, go find Lord Varys. Tell him what we have just discussed.” Tyrion waited as Podrick’s steps faded. “Shae, pour some wine. Sansa, fetch some cushions. I think we have a long, sleepless night ahead, and so we should spend it in good company.”_

.o.o.o.

“There, was that so hard?” the seamstress asked as she finally let Shae step off the stool.

“Yes,” Shae said flatly.

“Don’t mind her, ladies. Shae had a bit of a rough trip here is all. Travelling, you know,” Sansa said kindly. “So the gowns will be done by this evening?”

“Yes, my lady. Oh, it’s been so long since we’ve had a Lady Lannister at the rock,” the head seamstress sighed happily. “Not, ah, that it’s you lord husband’s fault of course. These things can happen during childbirth, you know.”

“Of course,” Sansa said, pulling her older dress back on. “Thank you ladies. Will we see you when you bring the dresses?”

“Yes, in case there’s any final alterations,” the head seamstress said. “Come now, girls, we don’t have all day!”

“Watch how they watch their tongues now that he’s their lord,” Shae said with a twisted smile after they were out the door.

“I’m sure some will start muttering again once the novelty’s worn off,” Sansa said. “What were you thinking about? Your brow furrowed when you were on the stool.”

“When Tyrion came back to us that night, after the king was wed. Oh, we weren’t sure we’d even live much longer, were we my dear?” Shae asked.

“Still, it was good to have the company. Made things better, somewhat,” Sansa said. “The fear I mean.”

“I know I speak for myself and Tyrion when I say this sweet wolf. We only want you to be as happy as possible,” Shae said. “I swear it.”

.o.o.o.

“So you’re going to forgive some of the loans?” Kevan asked.

“Not all of them, of course, but the capital is in dire straits right now. They don’t need to worry about paying one of the richest men in Westeros,” Tyrion said. “Besides, I have no ill will towards my sister or eldest nephew, and I hope to show that.”

“I’ve heard my niece had become a bit…suspicious since her father’s death?” Kevan asked.

“Well, Uncle, her son was very nearly killed and her father _was_. I think that calls for some paranoia, don’t you?” Tyrion asked. “So the mines are still steady, but it looks like there’s some problems in Lannisport?”

“A few minor rebellions once they heard your father was dead. Lots of lost stock and gold, as noted,” Kevan said. “Mostly under control by now but you will need to look into it.”

“Oh, I shall,” Tyrion said. “I think they intend to install you as Master of Coin, uncle.”

“I think so as well. I wonder who the Hand will be,” Kevan wondered.

“A Tyrell, perhaps Mace?” Tyrion mused. “Then again, the Lady Olenna could set the whole of the Red Keep up by their ears if needed, so perhaps she should get the job.”

“Given your sister’s…current state, a Tyrell might not be welcome,” Kevan noted.

“Yes, well, we’ve seen before how little Cersei can rule Joff. And now that he’s a full king with no need of a regent…I’ll admit I’m a bit worried for her,” Tyrion said quietly. “Ah! Here are the letters I wanted you to take. One’s for Joffrey, explaining the forgiving of the loans as a coronation gift, one for Cersei, one from my wife to the queen, and one for Tommen.”

“Miss him already, do you?” Kevan asked.

“Well, I am his dearest uncle. I rather miss Mrycella too, though I hope she is doing well in Dorne,” Tyrion said. “Plus I’d hope Tommen is continuing his studies in reading and writing. Perhaps correspondence would help with that.”

“Very well then,” Kevan said. “Farewell, nephew. Good luck.”

“I shan’t need luck. I’m a Lannister,” Tyrion said confidently as his uncle strode out the door. As soon as he knew Kevan was gone he added, “But the luck might help, eh Bronn?”

“Just a bit,” his guard said from where he’d been polishing his sword in the corner. “So all those debts your da was calling on when you as Master of Coin had to admit the kingdom had no coin, you’re just erasing?”

“My father could have afforded to forgive many of them himself. It was a pride thing, I think,” Tyrion said. “But I need to foster trust, not fear. If I cannot properly consolidate myself here I can never proceed with my plan to say ‘fuck this war, call me when it’s over.’”

“If Joffrey wins that might not be a good plan,” Bronn noted.

“Joffrey won’t win. Without a strong hand like my father or, forgive my pride in this, myself, he’ll run wild. Minor rebellions will crop up all over the place, not in the least because my father is dead and he was far more feared than Joff ever was,” Tyrion said. “This war’s only going to get worse now. So, best get the books in order before the shit hits the ceiling, eh?”

“Who do you think will rebel?” Bronn asked.

“Martells, certainly. I’d worry for my niece, but from what I know she’s well adored there. They might even try to use her for the throne, so they won’t kill her,” Tyrion said. “Smallfolk of the north who still see the Starks as their rightful rulers. After all Arya Stark may still be out there. Greyjoys, likely, if the rumors that the Boltons are the ones who hold their heir. The Eyrie.”

“The Eyrie? They’re neutral,” Bronn said.

“That’s where Baelish is headed. I’m sure of it. He grew up with the Tully girls and I’m sure he can use Lysa Arryn’s warped mind against her. After all, they _are_ wed now, for whatever that’s worth,” Tyrion said. “So if Joffrey wants to get him, which he _will_ , he will have to attack the Eyrie.”

“Foolish if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Bronn said.

“Ah, but my nephew is foolish, is he not?” Tyrion chuckled. “And if those rumors of the Targaryen girl are true…well, things are going to get quite complicated indeed.”

“Thought you and Varys said she was a world away,” Bronn said.

“That was months ago,” Tyrion said. “Trust me, Varys has heard more whispers since then.”

“But why tell you?” Bronn asked.

“Varys is…complicated,” Tyrion said. “He’s playing the game, yes, but I think he’s playing some other ones. For whatever reason he’s deemed me important to the continued stability of Westeros, which from what I understand is his chief goal.”

“Well, I can see how he sees you like that. You kept things running pretty damn smoothly even though Joffrey was king and Littlefinger was fucking with the money,” Bronn said.

“Yes, well, I might have hated the man, but my father did run things quite nicely during the reign of the Mad King,” Tyrion said. “And despite both of us despising the relation, I _am_ his son. Bronn, I have a job for you.”

“You already have a job for me.”

“A new one. I’ll throw in some good wine in addition to your usual payments.”

“I get wine whenever I sit with you. I want a shield.”

“What sort?”

“Small. No decoration, dark iron if you can. Every good knight needs one, right?”

“Done. Here is your duty: I want you to go to the great hall, get roaringly drunk or at least pretend to, and talk about the Blackwater. About how Joffrey cowered inside. About my various plans to defend the city. About my leading the attack. Find some pretext for talking about it, of course, but _talk_. Clear?”

“Well, I got the better deal there. Drunken boasting is a lovely pastime. Tell you what, I’ll also chat with some of the wall guards about it too,” Bronn said. “Keep us more even.”

“That would be very beneficial,” Tyrion said. “Now in one week we shall go inspect Lannisport. You will be with me, as will the ladies. I’ve already converted a few nobles to my side, they want their interests at the port seen to and so will make sure we get back in.”

“Why the ladies?” Bronn asked.

“We’ve got a bit of shopping to do. Any purchases that may be seen as odd will be blamed on them. The whole cliché of women and buying things, you know.”

“Well, then you’ll have an annoyed wife _and_ and annoyed….not-exactly-whore,” Bronn said.

“We’re taking many guards of course,” Tyrion said. “You will be in command of them.”

“I will, will I?”

“It’s in your job description, you’ll not be paid more for doing it.”

.o.o.o.

“I just…this being a Lady stuff…it’s so odd,” Shae chuckled.

“I’ve always felt it’s all in the smile,” Sansa said, helping Shae into one of her new gowns.

“Oh, are you the handmaid now?”

“I think we’d be better served to be each other’s’ handmaids for now, until we know who we can trust,” Sansa said. “There we go. How does it feel?”

“Weightier than I’m used to,” Shae admitted. “Not too restrictive on the arms…really thought these long sleeves would be heavier”

“Then we ladies of the north would be oh so bogged down,” Sansa said. “Unlike the west and south where you can have fitted sleeves for about everything, all my older dresses had billowing sleeves.”

“Well, you’re wearing fitted sleeves right now, my lady,” Shae noted.

Sansa gave a little twirl, “This sort of surcoat doesn’t work with any of the sleeves they wished to give me. So I declared it should have none and let my dress’ sleeves show.”

“The brocade is perfectly Lannister, but that surcoat just screams ‘north’ my lady,” Shae teased, running a finger down the navy fabric.

“What screams north?” Tyrion asked entering their chambers. “Ah, two lovely ladies after a day of drudgery. Clearly I have pleased the gods!”

“Sansa’s been showing me how to move in this thing,” Shae said.

“It’s called a proper dress, Shae,” Tyrion said dryly. “And now that you have one…burn my sister’s, will you?”

“Oh, I like that idea. I’ll get the fire going. Sansa, get the dress,” Shae said, lifting her skirts and hurrying to the fireplace.

“She looks good in finer clothes, does she not?” Sansa asked, pulling the red gown out from the wardrobe Shae had shoved it in.

“She’s always looked good,” Tyrion said. “But I’ve longed to give her what she deserves, sweetling, just as I long to do the same for you.”

“You’re a good man, Tyrion Lannister,” Sansa said. “I’m sorry I doubted that for so long.”

“You had every reason to, my dear. But I’m not too good a man to not enjoy this,” Tyrion said as Shae began to get the flames going. “Back away, Shae, we’ll let it grow and then chuck the dress!”

“Now these are evening festivities to my liking,” Shae said.

“The servants brought up dinner, here,” Sansa said, heading to the table.

“Well, the flames do need to grow a bit,” Tyrion said as he walked up the steps to his chair. “I take it you shall now be clothed to your liking?”

“I notice the west is far more fascinated with more open surcoats than King’s Landing,” Sansa said. “There they are practically a second dress when you wear one.”

“Well, I cannot speak as to fashion, but it is cooler here than King’s Landing or the Reach. Perhaps more layers are warranted in ladies’ clothing?” Tyrion wondered. “Oh, I sent your letter along to Margaery with my uncle.”

“I hope she’s doing all right,” Sansa said.

“The girl seems to know how to handle the king,” Shae said. “And her brother is right there, with his sword. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Besides, Joff needs an heir,” Tyrion said. “And now that he’s allowed to give it a go, I’m sure he’ll be careful if he thinks she’s carrying. He’s a mad idiot, but not _that_ much of a mad idiot. Well, I hope he’s not.”

“This bread is very good,” Shae said. “Is it more commonly made here?”

“Yes. I like it myself,” Tyrion said.

“Looks like the fire’s getting high enough,” Sansa said.

“Now, which of you ladies would like the honor?” Tyrion asked.

“Sansa simply must do it,” Shae said in an overly formal tone. “She has the most grievances against the Queen Mother, and so should be given the highest honor of burning a dress of hers.”

Sansa and Tyrion quickly recovered from their laugher and Sansa lifted the gown.

“To Cersei, wicked mother of the maddest king Westeros has ever seen: I wish this dress was your hair!” Sansa cheered, throwing it into the flames.

“Oh, Cersei bald, there’s an idea to make me smile on a dreary day,” Tyrion snickered as the silk began to curl in on itself as it burnt in the flickering fire, its red glory soon turned to ash.


	4. I Dreamed a Dream

“The sea here is so much nicer than King’s Landing,” Sansa said, looking over the wall. “It’s much more blue, don’t you think, Shae?”

“Oh much. It reminds me of home, a bit,” Shae said.

“You lived by the sea?” Sansa asked.

“Near enough,” Shae said. “So near, in fact, that I was tricked onto a boat to Westeros and, well, you can guess from there.”

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said.

“We cannot apologize for the past, dear, especially when we had nothing to do with it,” Shae said. “Can I apologize for your father losing his head?”

“No, merely hold me when I remember it,” Sansa said, smiling sadly. “It seems so long ago that I begged to go to King’s Landing with him, begged to be engaged to Joffrey.”

“You have been through much,” Shae said. “But smile. Tyrion would die before he let our mad king near you again, sweet wolf.”

“You know, Tyrion is our grand lion. I am your sweet wolf. What are you to us?” Sansa pondered.

“The sensible one when your heart or Tyrion’s head run away from you,” Shae teased.

“I think you should be our dear fox. Tricky and cunning and beautiful,” Sansa said.

“I am not fairer than you, sweet one,” Shae laughed.

“You have this, this presence to you, though, when you’re allowed to stand tall,” Sansa said. “I like it. Much better than you trying to be a handmaid.”

Shae laughed and they continued to walk along the wall, Pod following a bit behind them.

“Do you think the wars will get worse, with Tywin dead?” Sansa wondered.

“Well, with Baelish suspected and him likely in the Eyrie…I would wager there will be a battle there soon enough. Dorne hates the king too, or so Tyrion tells me,” Shae said. “Battles, battles, battles. You know, I think if that Queen of Thorns woman was on the throne we wouldn’t have half this nonsense going on.”

“She’d verbally lash everyone into so much shame they’d do anything to make her stop,” Sansa agreed.

“Bet she could even get Joffrey to cry,” Shae suggested.

“You’re terrible!” Sansa laughed.

.o.o.o.

_Sansa did not know why she wept so much. She had hated Tyrion’s father, hated him for forcing this marriage, hated him for trying to force Tyrion to bed her, hated him for trapping poor Loras with Cersei of all people, and oh her family, what he’d_ done _to her_ family _…_

_“And I just…why am I crying, then?” she asked._

_“You’re afraid, my dear. It has been a frightening day,” Tyrion said._

_“What happened after I left?” Sansa asked._

_“Well, Joffrey and Margaery were escorted to safety, of course,” Tyrion said. “Joff’s still planning retribution, against whom I’m not sure, especially with Littlefinger possibly out of our grasp. Cersei would not let go of our father’s body, some of the guards had to drag her off. She seems to think I did it, but she’s so mad with grief no one paid her any real mind.”_

_“Are you in danger then, my lord?” Shae asked._

_“Call him Tyrion, Shae.”_

_They both looked at her. Sansa wiped her eyes. “I know. I’m not blind and I don’t…I don’t care. He’s not bedding_ me _, after all, why should I care?”_

_Shae swallowed, “Tyrion, are you in danger?”_

_“Likely not. Even if I have the motive of wanting Casterly Rock, they have no evidence pointing to me, after all, killing Joff would not have gotten me the Rock and the poison was for him. And with Littlefinger fled, well…”_

_“He looks far guiltier, then,” Sansa agreed._

_“There will be questions, of course. They will question the both of you, likely,” Tyrion said._

_“We know it wasn’t you,” Sansa said._

_“Be careful with your words all the same,” Tyrion cautioned. “Especially around Joffrey. As if his mind needed a reason to slip further…”_

.o.o.o.

“As far as I can tell, everything has been run quite well here. It seems my uncle was every inch the administrator his brother was,” Tyrion said, going through the papers. “How did our plan go, Bronn?”

“Well, they clearly thought me drunker than I was,” Bronn said. “They were especially enamored with the fact that you roused the soldiers to follow you out the back way to kill the men at the door. Oh, and the fire chain. They _loved_ that fire chain.”

“So you were questioned?” Tyrion asked.

“I spoke well of your bravery, of how the king was nowhere to be seen, and of course how from what I heard after the battle our dead Lady Sansa kept the women in the keep calm while your sister got drunker and drunker and spoke of how they’d all be raped and killed.”

“Ah, added loyalty for my lady wife. Clever man,” Tyrion said.

“Some asked me what Shae was then, why she came-”

“Oh gods, don’t tell me you were truthful.”

“Of course I was. I said she was our Lady’s dearest friend and confidant in King’s Landing and was being rewarded for her loyalty,” Bronn said. “I did not mention, of course, that the loyalty was to _both_ of you.”

“Well done, Bronn, well done.”

“And then I mentioned Podrick saving your life and well, I think some gents are considering offering him their daughters…”

“Oh dear,” Tyrion said. “You know with his father and uncle and the rest of the Payne men either in King’s Landing or the army I’m technically his head of house for such negotiations?”

“…Good luck with that, then!” Bronn laughed. “There were some merchants in the group. They’ll be taking the tale to Lannisport even now.”

“Then our plan was a grand success,” Tyrion said. “A toast to us, Ser Bronn!”

“To us indeed,” Bronn said. “So, what’s the plan from here?”

“For the moment the plan is to do nothing particularly out of the ordinary,” Tyrion said. “Sweeping changes would not be conducive to consolidating my power here, especially with my reputation. Our only acts for now will be to quell the troubles at Lannisport and find the trustworthy among the people of the Rock.”

“Find out who will feed stories to your sister and the rest of King’s Landing, you mean.”

“Exactly,” Tyrion said. “After all, there may be those who see serving House Lannister as _not_ serving me.”

.o.o.o.

_“I want someone to pay!” Joffrey shouted as Tyrion entered the chamber of the Small Council._

_“Have you not mentioned Littlefinger, then?” he asked Varys._

_“Oh, I have,” the eunuch replied. “The king is displeased that he seems to have escaped.”_

_“There’s no way he could have gotten_ too _far by now,” Tyrion said._

_“Well if your wife hadn’t held off on telling people that he’d tried to kidnap her,_ if _that’s even true,” Cersei said, giving Tyrion a dark look._

_“It is true,” Tyrion said tightly. “Seeing as how several guards heard her scream and saw Podrick Payne throw him down the hallway.”_

_“Hang Payne for not detaining him,” Joffrey said, pacing._

_“I do not think the young squire knew the full extent of what was going on. He likely just reacted to the lady’s scream,” Varys said evenly._

_“Then **beat** Sansa Stark for not telling him that!” Joffrey bellowed._

_“My lady wife was in shock and no state to tell anyone anything,” Tyrion said. “When I arrived in our chambers her handmaid was still trying to coax her back to speech.”_

_“How convenient, then, that our suspected poisoner it nowhere to be found, brother,” Cersei sneered. “It seems things have worked out entirely in your favor.”_

_“My_ favor _?” Tyrion asked. “I fail to see how destabilizing King’s Landing and my wife nearly being kidnapped are in my favor!”_

_“If you’re accusing him of something just say it!” Joffery snapped._

_“I say Tyrion did it and framed Baelish,” Cersei said._

_“For what reason?” Tyrion demanded._

_“Casterly Rock,” Cersei said._

_Tyrion shook his head, staring at her, “Have you taken leave of your senses? The poison was clearly meant for the_ king _, as noted by his highness himself, it was_ his cup _. And why would I kill Joffrey? What could I gain from it?”_

_“You would. I know you would,” Cersei snarled._

_“Mother, this is not the time for your womanly hysterics!” Joffrey snarled. “If you cannot get a hold of yourself, get out!”_

_“My king, we are already short most of the small council,” Varys pointed out. “I’m not sure ejecting someone is entirely-”_

_“You, use your whispers and find out who did this,” Joffrey said, pointing at Varys. He pointed at Tyrion, “You figure out how to make the smallfolk stop panicking. Mother, get court back in order. There! This council session is over! So says the king!”_

.o.o.o.

“I wonder if Margaery is taking a walk right now,” Sansa mused.

“Depends on how the king’s been bedding her, wouldn’t you say?” Shae replied.

“Ugh. Bedded by…by _him_. I don’t know how I ever found that boy attractive,” Sansa said.

“He probably hadn’t opened his mouth yet,” Shae said.

“You know, I think that’s about right,” Sansa said. “When I was little I used to dream of King’s Landing. Of the royal court. I thought it would be like the courts in the songs and stories.”

“They tend to leave the unsavory bits out,” Shae agreed.

“And I believed in them so much anyway,” Sansa said. “I saw Joffery as my great prince, my one true love…blinded to what he was by his pretty face. The same with his mother. I thought her a beautiful and kind queen.”

“All right, I’ll admit I’m not sure how you managed the latter of those,” Shae muttered.

“I took all the false pleasantries for truth, that’s how,” Sansa said. “I thought being called a dove was a good thing.”

“And now it makes you shudder,” Shae said with a sad, knowing smile. When her lady did not agree, the smile faded in an instant. “Sansa?”

“I like she-wolf better,” Sansa said finally. “I’m sorry. Memories.”

“We shall make better ones, then,” Shae declared, lifting her skirts. “Race to the next watchtower, my lady?”

“A fox cannot outrun a wolf, Shae,” Sansa warned, dashing after her.

.o.o.o.

Sansa woke alone.

This was not an uncommon occurrence. Tyrion had only shared their bed in King’s Landing when the spies had been sniffing about, and usually only slid back into bed here shortly before dawn, whether he spent the night at his desk or with Shae.

So Sansa woke alone in Casterly Rock tonight.

Her arms instantly seized her stomach, her mind not quite sure yet that the dream wasn’t real.

Tyrion had tried to keep the details of the Red Wedding from her, but the king had been only too gleeful to share them. So her dreams were always vivid and clear. In this one she had been murdered as her brother’s wife had, her insides gouged out.

Sansa tilted her head up, staring at the smooth ceiling. But the greywacke only seemed to turn into Riverlands stone, to what she imagined the ceilings of the Twins would have been like.

“No, no,” she muttered, trying to get a hold of herself. She knew it wasn’t real. She _knew_ it.

“I wasn’t at the wedding. Tyrion and Shae weren’t at the wedding,” Sansa whispered.

But they _had_ in the dream. Like everyone else in Sansa’s dream world they had not been able to react, only die, Shae by knives as she had and Tyrion by an axe. Joffrey had held the axe.

“He’s a coward, you know he’d never go into a fight,” Sansa scolded herself even as the king’s mocking laughter filled her head. “It’s not real. You’re a Stark, Sansa. Know it’s not real!”

She wasn’t in her room anymore. How was that possible? She could still hear him though, Joffrey. He wanted her dead. He wanted to rape her. Oh gods, would he rape her corpse?

Why did no one open the doors? How had no one escaped?

Escape. There was a door.

Sansa rushed for it, only to find her fingers wouldn’t work the handle properly to undo the bolt.

Bolted in. The Boltons were going to kill her with the rest of her family. They’d saved her for last.

She sank to the ground sobbing, one hand still pawing feebly at the door out of the Twins. She had to escape. Escape it.

“Sansa!”

Her head snapped up. The door was open.

The Red Wedding doors didn’t open.

She came back to herself. She was in Casterly Rock, seated on stone of the sea, not rivers. And Shae was alive and in front of her.

“Sansa, sweetling, what happened?” Shae asked, dropping down and cupping Sansa’s cheeks.

“You’re shaking.” Tyrion appeared behind Shae. “I’ll get the fire going. Shae, find her a blanket.”

Oh gods. Tyrion and Shae. In Shae’s room. Then they’d been…she’d interrupted them from…

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa whispered. “So, so sorry.”

“Sorry, sweet wolf?” Shae asked, guiding her to her feet. “Whatever about?”

“I…you were…I shouldn’t have…sorry,” Sansa said.

“Sweetling we’ve had many nights in the past and will have many in the future. Fret not,” Shae said soothingly, pulling the coverlet off the bed and draping it around Sansa’s shoulders. “Come, let’s sit by the fire.”

The fireplace was the same stone as the rest, but it was lined with red tiles. Sansa shuddered as she suddenly saw them not as tiles but as blood around the fire.

“Sansa? Come back to us, dear,” Tyrion said gently.

“Am I going mad?” Sansa asked fearfully.

“No,” her husband said firmly. “You are experiencing all your traumas again in your mind now that you feel safe enough to fully process them. Deep down your mind isn’t sure if it’s out of danger yet or not, and so it imagines the danger.”

“But nightmares are one thing…seeing that which isn’t there,” Sansa said. “That is the definition of madness!”

“Sansa. After I came to Westeros I could not look at boats for a long time without remembering,” Shae said. “And some days those memories were more real than the real world.”

“But I’m imagining things too,” Sansa said.

“You have an imaginative mind,” Tyrion said, adjusting his robe a bit as he settled against the couch. “In many ways that is a boon but here I’m afraid it might make this harder.”

“So what should I do?” Sansa asked. “If it happens again?”

“What you did tonight. Seek us out. Let us pull you back,” Shae said.

“But…I don’t want to interrupt-”

“Sansa, we are just fucking,” Tyrion said. “Believe me, we can do that at any time. Or we’re merely sleeping in which case we would gladly awaken to aid with this.”

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” Sansa said.

“Then you shall not be,” Tyrion said. “Shae, fetch us some wine. Let’s try to talk of happier things, shall we?”

Sansa nodded, hugging the blanket tightly around herself. “We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Sansa's in a more relaxed atmosphere, everything that has happened is really having time to process. Hence the poor girl has a lot of nightmares ahead.  
> Next time we'll have a change of pace and see how King's Landing is doing!


	5. King’s Landing

“Uncle,” Cersei greeted sweetly. “So good to see you.”

“Good to see you as well, dear niece,” Kevan said, embracing her briefly.

“So, Tyrion has the Rock now, does he?” she asked bitterly.

“Well, who else would?” Kevan asked. He knew Tyrion and Cersei had their…differences, but really, there was simply no one else to inherit it.

“Tommen, once Joffrey and Margaery have their child,” Cersei said.

“Well, I’m afraid Tyrion is ahead of Tommen in the line of inheritance,” Kevan said gently. “And he and his lady will likely have a child soon enough. She seems very fond of him.”

Cersei looked dismissive, “Sansa? The little dove is courteous to everyone, has been since her traitor father died. She’s too afraid to be anything else.”

“She did not seem afraid when I saw her,” Kevan said. “Though we did not have time to be formally introduced, of course. I wished to get here as soon as I could, so all my time was spent transferring power over to Tyrion.”

“Likely too awed by the Rock,” Cersei said dismissively. “She’s of the North, after all. Her jaw almost never left the ground her first week here.”

“Cersei, I know Tywin’s death has pained you,” Kevan said. “But it has pained us all. I lost my brother, niece. Do not take it out on Tyrion.”

“I know he did it,” Cersei said.

“Well if you have no proof of the matter you should not say such things,” Kevan admonished. “Now, where are the king and queen? I bear letters for both.”

“None for me?” Cersei asked.

“No, there’s one for you, and one for Tommen as well,” Kevan said.

“Why would he write Tommen?” Cersei demanded sharply.

“Because he is a doting uncle who adores his sweet little nephew,” Kevan said. “Much as I adored the three of you and spoiled you before my own were born.”

“No, he had a reason. Let me see it,” Cersei said.

“Well, you’ll likely have to read it to Tommen,” Kevan said. “But then I have not seen my great-nephew in some time, so I think I might have to take that privilege. The king and queen?”

“Right. This way,” Cersei said.

.o.o.o.

Margaery smiled. Sansa was clearly quite worried for her, but did an excellent job of masking it in a letter than seemed made of general platitudes.

Her beddings had not been too painful, whoever had advised Joffrey before he’d done the deed had done a decent enough job, though she doubted he’d ever properly fucked a woman before. Not with that awkward positioning.

Oh how she had longed to tell him what he was doing wrong, but that would give her game away. At the very least his discussions of sex with other men, a popular topic when all parties were drunk, would tell him how he’d screwed things up a bit, and no one would suspect she’d partaken of moon tea just yet.

With Tywin dead they could not risk Joffrey as well. No, she would see if she could properly rule him first. And if not…well, by then the realm would have stabilized a bit and she could probably stand to bear him a son and _then_ kill him.

She felt a little bad about it. While it certainly wasn’t love, Joffrey regarded her with some odd sort of affection he never showed any other lady. She had discussed it many a time with Sansa. Perhaps the pliant nature she showcased was so different from his mother that he found her freeing?

Whatever it was, it kept her safe enough for now. She would wager two months before she would need to give into trying to get him an heir. After that she might not be safe from her husband’s moods.

She hoped Sansa was happy. The girl was too sweet for the game, really, but she deserved some happiness after getting so mixed up in it. Tyrion seemed to adore her, at least. And thankfully she had not gone with Baelish, for whatever he had wanted.

.o.o.o.

_“He just seemed so sure Tyrion would be blamed,” Sansa said._

_Margaery sipped her tea. Tyrion had certainly not been a planned man to take the fall, but she could see how it would have gone that way. She’d personally hoped it would have been Cersei. They could have accused her of wanting to rule through Tommen. Margaery had even thought up a way of planting some of the poison in her room._

_But Baelish clearly had other designs, and had only done this to get to Sansa. But why? “I shudder to think what he wanted.”_

_“My father trusted him,” Sansa said. “Because Petyr loved my mother once.”_

_“A poor reason for a man to trust another man,” Margaery said._

_“Rest his bones, but if that’s what got him killed I’d say your father was suicidal,” Lady Olenna sighed, wagging her finger._

_“Well, we know that now. He does a good act of seeming trustworthy,” Sansa said. “No one even thought he’d poison Joffrey.”_

_“I don’t know why he would, though,” Margaery said._

_“I asked Tyrion. He said Lord Varys claims Littlefinger thrives on chaos, uses it to gain. That he’d burn all of Westeros to the ground if he could rule the ashes,” Sansa said, shuddering._

_“He’s said as much to me as well. Wretched. Too many men like that out there. Just our luck one got into power,” Olenna said. “He is married to your aunt now, yes?”_

_“Yes,” Sansa said. “And I fear you may never reach him. Aunt Lysa rules the Vale from the Eyrie.”_

_“Lord Tyrion has been there, hasn’t he?” Margaery asked. “Is it really so impregnable?”_

_“From what I know, no army would ever get in,” Sansa said._

_“Well, then we are about so see some real foolishness, girls,” Olenna chuckled. “Make sure to have the good wine for when the soldiers start dropping like flies to Arryn archers, will you?”_

.o.o.o.

Still no Hand. Olenna was ready to box some ears.

Really, they should have never let the Imp of Lannister leave. He’d whipped the joint into shape before and could likely do it again. But no, Joff was scared of his minute uncle and his scolding slaps and so gave him leave to stay away which the Imp and his wife would both gladly take.

Olenna was so tempted to try the art of king-slapping herself. If only she’d been here before Joffrey was in his majority as king. Ah well, dreams.

At least they had a Master of Coin now. Kevan seemed a sensible man. Less ambitious than his kin, but that could mean he would throw himself under an army for them. He had voted for Mace Tyrell as the Hand of the King.

Mace as a potential Hand. Sure, why not have all the rulers of Highgarden in one place, then? She should send Loras home if Mace came. The engagement was shattered ages ago, after all.

She should find him someone to marry, too. The Stark girl might yet not have consummated…

But no. Sansa Stark was ever faithful and trusting, and Tyrion had proved himself her protector, for whatever that would be worth. So she might be loath to leave his protection, especially for a man who did not truly desire her.

They were quite short on real ladies these days, too, whose pedigrees could lead to alliances. Oh well, it would give Loras time to find a new lover, perhaps. The boy had been so broken since Renly’s death, a new love might heal him.

Good. One grandchild sorted. On to Margaery.

She had the moon tea for now, but that was a short term solution, to see if Joffrey might prove controllable by Tyrell interests with Tywin out of the picture, or if he’d rage entirely out of anyone’s control whatsoever.

If that boy beat her granddaughter, then Olenna would not be responsible for her actions. She was old, death did not frighten her. That let her play quite freely and if it meant gutting a sleeping king, she’d do so.

“Grandmother, no plotting over desert. You know how it makes Loras and I worry,” Margaery said.

“You should worry. Worry all the time. This is King’s Landing,” she said coolly. “Worry, but never let them know.”

.o.o.o.

Kevan frowned at the books. He knew his nephew’s hand and could thus see where Tyrion’s work as Master of Coin started and thus Littlefinger’s ended.

Tyrion had clearly been handed a right mess and made the best of it, but even a miracle worker would not have been able to right what Kevan was looking at. With most of the Lannister loans forgiven and Tyrion willing to stay the rest for now Kevan had thought real progress could be made; he knew just how much his brother had loaned the court after all and being able to write off such a sum should have made things easier.

It did not. Kevan would never claim to have as brilliant a mind as his brother or younger nephew, but he doubted even Tyrion had understood the entirety of what Littlefinger had done with the money.

Some of the investments had clearly paid off and paid well, but were doing so no longer. Somehow there were more loans than there should have been, especially as many of the loan-givers knew each other and therefore should have gotten suspicious that they were all being asked. And then some of the money just seemed to…vanish.

Tyrion’s notes only somewhat helped. His nephew clearly saw whatever Littlefinger had done as purely intentional, a way to ensure his own necessity to the king and a failsafe if ever removed from power. But then even some of them made no sense, as Tyrion went off into long notes about the jousts at King’s Landing and the worth of Northern holdings being miscalculated and…

Was Littlefinger’s greatest moneymaker some odd form of betting? Investment without investment, simply saying something would be worth more and if it was you were paid and if it was not you were not? And then investing in that odd way in things he knew would not improve? And somehow getting others to do the same?

But why? Where was the sense in it all?

“You seem troubled, Master of Coin.”

“Simply getting used to the books, Lord Varys,” Kevan replied. He could see where the nickname of Spider came from, even without the webs of information the man’s silent creeping would be enough for it.

“Tyrion seemed to spend his entire time here getting used to them. We had some great fun together, I ferreting out exactly who some of the more obscure references Lord Baelish left were to and he doing all the math and drudgery,” Varys said, folding his hands inside his sleeves. “But we never seemed to quite solve his puzzle.”

“I think you might have made the mistake of assuming the puzzle was able to be solved,” Kevan said. “Littlefinger seems to have denied any chance of total recovery, only mitigation of the damage.”

“I have wondered about that,” Varys said. “Well, you have always seemed a good damage mitigator, so I believe we are in some of the best hands we could be in. Of course, there’s the trouble of admitting that trouble to the king.”

“He’d hang us both.”

“Yes, and your niece would likely do the same,” Varys said. “Treason for not noticing sooner or something for me, and treason for not magically fixing it for you.”

“I doubt they’d openly accuse one of their own of treason. It would not be wise.”

“No it would not,” Varys agreed. “But we must both admit that neither is known for wisdom.”

“Must we now?” Kevan was very much feeling like talking to Tywin when his brother had felt like being smug about outthinking everyone else. It felt a bit shaming from his brother, but from one like Varys it had much more sinister implications.

“Well, we’re in good hands with you, as I said. Though we still need a good Hand. Know anyone other than the obvious?” Varys asked.

“Well, Tyrion suggested the Lady Olenna, but he was of course joking, no one here would accept the Queen of Thorns with such power,” Kevan drawled. “I suggested Mace.”

“Oh, but Olenna would be more interesting, don’t you agree? We’d have a proper time-out corner for the king, and possibly a dunce cap as well,” Varys said.

Kevan tried not to smile. It was amusing imagery, he had to admit. “Despite what others think, Joffrey does have a certain intelligence to him.”

“Oh, I know. He merely uses none of it,” Varys said. “Can you believe he focused on the rumors of the Targaryen girl across the sea instead of intrigue in his own court? If we could get half the imagination out of him about dealing with actual enemies as we could about those supposed dragons we’d have quite the creative force to work with.”

“Getting that creativity somewhere other than petty matters of cruelty might take some doing,” Kevan said.

“Yes. We must think of how that doing shall be done,” Varys agreed. “Let me know what you come up with, because I frankly see nothing.”

As the eunuch left, Kevan had to admit he didn’t see a way to use Joffrey’s wild imagination for the good of the realm either. Just last night the boy had wondered about ceiling-clinging assassins and if they were a possibility. Surely the boy had heard of _gravity_?

Why did the first Lannister king have to be a mad one? Tommen would have done much better…

.o.o.o.

Cersei drummed her fingers as she re-read her letter from Tyrion.

He was gloating. Gloating that he was aiding them so very “generously” by cancelling a few loans, gloating about how Sansa just adored Casterly Rock, about all of it.

She’d listened to his letter to Tommen, read in an oh-so-pleasant voice by her uncle. He should have known better—Tyrion’s voice was never anything but smug and annoying. And asking what Tommen wanted for his next name day—as if she’d ever trust a gift from that little monster, especially one tried to be slipped to her own, unsuspecting son!

“Cersei, you were missed at dinner.”

“I was not hungry,” she told her uncle. “I am preoccupied with the matters of the realm.”

“You appear more occupied with the matters of the Rock,” Kevan said. “With Joffrey no longer needing a regent, you’d better come up with something to do around here, niece.”

“What would you have me do? Can you not see I am in mourning?” she asked, gesturing to her black dress.

“Not too in mourning to lend a second set of eyes to the financial books. After all, there could be no greater triumph than to fix what your brother could not,” Kevan offered her. “Even ladies have duties, even Queen Mothers. But as we have not had one in so long you are free to choose what those are.”

As if any woman was ever free to choose such. If she was a man she’d be offered the position of Hand, or—no, wait, if she was a _man_ she’d rule, damn it! Rule this wretched place as it was meant to be ruled! “I disagree.”

“Even your new sister-in-law and Lady Shae have already found-”

“What did you say?” Cersei asked. She knew that name.

“Lady Shae? Sansa’s friend from court?” Kevan hazarded. “Are you not feeling well, Cersei? You look pale.”

She’d had the wrong whore all along. Tyrion had hid his favorite right under her nose with the dove, likely with the dove’s blessing since it meant Tyrion wouldn’t want to fuck _her_. And now that whore was treated as a lady at Casterly Rock itself?

Cersei went to tell her uncle exactly who that slut was when a great shout came from outside.

“What on earth..?” Kevan wondered, heading to her window.

“What if there’s an assassin!” she cried at her foolish uncle. “Someone else is dead, I know it!”

“No, someone lives!” he said, grabbing her shoulders with a wide grin. “It’s Jaime! He’s here!”

Jaime? Here? Home? At last? Returned to her?

Cersei looked out the window to see her brother and some other knight.

Jaime was home now. He’d do away with the traitors, she knew it. He knew her, trusted her judgment. And then everything would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to portray Cersei's sanity-slippage as best I can given the changed circumstances. With Joffrey acting as though he no longer needs her to rule and Margaery clearly getting a tighter hold on the king than she had, she has a lot of resentment for non-Tyrion things that she's aiming at Tyrion because she deems that the safest person to go after. As you can see, Kevan's not willing to put up with it. 
> 
> I also moved Jaime and Brienne's arrival to the way it is in the books, where they get there somewhat after the wedding, for story purposes.
> 
> What Kevan's talking about with what Littlefinger did is essentially a proto stock market sort of thing. You're "betting" what businesses will do well, essentially, tho depending on the bet you may or may not actually own a share of the business and be able to affect how it runs. From the books Petyr worked to engineer a system that would collapse entirely without him involving a lot of credit bubbles and other sneaky things, so I felt this worked too.


	6. Goods for Sale

“She’s lovely like this, plotting nasty retribution on any who may dare harm our sweet wolf,” Tyrion sighed happily.

“A whore turned vicious bodyguard and a scared-stiff traitor’s daughter turned confused wife. You have interesting tastes, my lord,” Sansa noted. “But yes, the fervor does lend Shae a certain beauty.”

Shae continued pacing, not hearing them as she listed all the ways she would verbally or physically castrate anyone who so much as made Sansa frown in the markets today.

“Why do _you_ get all the revenge plots, I wonder?” Tyrion asked.

“Well, if you weren’t their lord and they felt safer insulting you to your face, she’d plot for you too, I’m sure,” Sansa consoled her husband. “Lady or not I’m still the traitor’s daughter after all.”

“She’s never threatened to cut a prick off for me, though. That honor is yours alone,” Tyrion said. “I feel so unloved. Truly.”

“And such an honor it is, and you have given me the same great defense, my lord, making it doubly lovely to receive,” Sansa said sagely as Shae finally finished her tirade and began straightening her hair. “Shae, dear, we _will_ have guards, you know.”

“And perhaps this soon into our stay you should avoid revealing your affinity for sharp things, my love?” Tyrion asked. “Excluding mine, of course.”

“Well, she should not advertise that, either, should she?” Sansa asked.

“Ah, correct, my lady wife. A thousand apologies, Shae, it seems I was thinking with the wrong head for a moment,” Tyrion said.

“You two are damn lucky I’m going,” Shae said, smoothing her dress. “One of you’d have your foot in your mouth by the first merchant at this rate.”

“I’m sure Tyrion could hold off until the third merchant, at least,” Sansa said.

“Besieged by beautiful women with clever tongues. Ah, this is such a lovely hell I’ve made myself,” Tyrion laughed. “Shall we, then?”

.o.o.o.

Lannisport was far more organized than the markets of King’s Landing. Sansa thought someone must have planned what went where, or at least where buildings could stand and where roads and paths must go.

Tyrion was going to be buying up some things to shore up the Rock in case a sudden break with the capital was needed. Sansa had been assured she and Shae would be blamed for any purchases anyone questioned.

For once, being blamed was rather funny. Watching a merchant backpedal as he was asked if he did _not_ want the business of the highest ladies of the Rock was a glorious thing.

“Thank you,” Tyrion said in an overly-exasperated tone as the man agreed to ship some more grain than usual up. “Now, who do I speak to about those riots?”

“Guildmaster Havren put them down, my lord,” the merchant said. “I’m sure he’d know anything you’d like to hear.”

“Good. Ladies, I leave you to your shopping. Pod, you other two, with the ladies,” Tyrion said, waving the extra two knights over. “Your heads if anything happens to them, sers.”

“Of course, my lord,” Podrick said quietly, apparently the only one expecting the threat.

“Well, what else shall we buy?” Shae asked. “I’ve never had much access to coin to spend myself…”

Sansa smiled. Shae had been very economical in King’s Landing, not wanting anyone to figure out who Tyrion’s real lover was. “I think we should get some tapestries and new quilts to brighten up our chambers. Oh, and some books.”

Shae made a slight face at the mention of books as Sansa led her on. Sansa knew Shae could not read—beyond a few names and numbers, anyway—but she hoped Shae would like to hear some of the stories Sansa had grown up with. It would be fun to tell such whimsical tales to one so cynical.

For that matter, Tyrion would likely have some excellent commentary on the tales as well…

.o.o.o.

“ _What time is it?” Sansa wondered._

_“Not yet midnight, sweetling,” Tyrion said from where he reclined on a large cushion._

_Sansa sighed, her head shifting in Shae’s lap. “I wish I could sleep.”_

_“We all do, love,” Shae said, petting her hair. “But until the Small Council is called and we know the state of things waiting is all we can do.”_

_“I hate it, though. I close my eyes it’s the Red Wedding and the Purple Wedding all at once,” Sansa said. “It’s dreadful. Blood and death and laughing and decadence…”_

_“Perhaps something completely different to speak of?” Tyrion asked. “You might doze off with your mind elsewhere and then be free of such dreams.”_

_“But speak of_ what _?” Sansa asked._

_“Well, how about how comfortable you seem to be with me fucking your husband?” Shae asked._

_“I guess part of me still believes in love,” Sansa said. “And, again,_ I’m _not doing it. might as well be you. At least no one seems to know about it. Far less humiliating than him just going to a brothel.”_

_“I’d never be so crude after marriage.” Tyrion said. “Especially since then you could be in jeopardy. Remember, to everyone else, we’ve done the deed.”_

_“Oh. Right,” Sansa said. “But you two do clearly love each other. Why would I be so horrible as to begrudge that?”_

_“We both care for you too, sweet one, very deeply,” Shae said. “It’s just not a love that needs fucking is all.”_

_“Shae, I’m really too tired to hear you keep using that word. Please stop,” Sansa sighed. “Do you think Joffrey’s killed anyone yet?”_

_“At least two servants. Probably a guard, too,” Tyion said._

_“Oh, I can’t say ‘fucking’ but we can talking about the king being a murdering lunatic? Well, all right then,” Shae drawled._

_“We do both love you, Sansa. Just not with f…in that way,” Tyrion said, catching himself._

_“Love has many forms. Ever Arya and I loved each other, despite how we acted all the time,” Sansa sighed. “Tyrion, how will you explain my not getting pregnant?”_

_“I was ordered to ‘bed’ you. It was said in the singular fashion. Any more explicit orders were given when my father and I were alone, no witnesses,” Tyrion said. “So in everyone else’s gossipy world you have been bedded, but not constantly. Hence no pregnancy yet.”_

_“Joffrey’s too stupid to know why we’d need a baby, too,” Sansa said, pursing her lips in thought._

_“I love it when your spine comes out, dear,” Shae said, patting her on the head._

.o.o.o.

“This one,” Sansa said, passing it into the knight’s already burdened arms. “And this one. This one. Oh, this one.”

Shae wished she knew what Sansa was buying so many books for. They couldn’t _all_ be tales and songs. Could they? “My lady, there is only so much space on the shelves in your room.”

“You have shelves too, and you’re to use them.”

Clever girl. So this was what happened when Sansa Stark was given a bit of real freedom. Very nice.

Shae should have remembered her mother’s old saying about being careful when wishing…

“And some blank ones,” Sansa told the bookkeeper. “Can the scribes recommend any good sorts of paper for penning one’s own works for the first time?”

Oh dear. Sansa _writing_ songs. And probably trying to teach Shae some more reading and writing. Dear, dear, dear. She did _not_ want to do that. Oh, and Tyrion would think it a good idea too, the wretch, she’d be caught between the both of them on this…

“This is a good weight,” the old man said. “My goodness, my lady, this is more business than I usually do in a year!”

“Both Lord Tyrion and his Lady quite love their books,” Shae said. “You should expect to do more business in the future.”

“Oh yes,” Sansa said. “Ser Fen, be a dear and carry those, will you?”

“My lady, I might not be able to protect you if I am burdened,” the knight said, glancing at the massive stack he held.

“I can send most up to the Rock,” the bookseller said. “We wouldn’t want our lady unprotected, now would we?”

Ah, good girl, gaining loyalty already. “We would not. My lady, surely you can part with your rhymes for a few hours?”

“Podrick and Giral could do the job just fine,” Sansa sighed, but she turned to the bookseller. “How much for shipping it all by tonight?”

“For such a prolific customer, free,” the man said, bowing.

Shae nodded. She’d noticed the prices on the damn things. Books were expensive. Or at least these ones were.

Good thing Sansa married a Lannister…

“Now, Shae, where should we go next?” Sansa asked.

“I think there’s more weavers further down this road. We’ve only found one good tapestry so far and my lady, my room is far too drafty for just that one to help,” Shae said.

“Sea air isn’t drafty, Shae. You’d never make it in the North.”

“I wouldn’t, would I?” Shae asked. “Well, my lady, we shall see who freezes in winter and who does not when the season comes, shall we?”

“As Lady Sansa is of the North, I must agree with her on who would freeze, Lady Shae,” Sir Giral said.

“As if only the North understands harsh weather,” Shae sniffed. “Let’s see, I know I saw the sign around here somewhere…”

It had been a great big one with a loom too, how was she missing that now?

“That one, my lady?” Pod asked, gesturing.

“Ah, Ser Payne to our rescue again,” Sansa said. “Thank you, Podrick.”

Shae smiled at Pod’s slightly amused expression. It seemed all his time as Tyrion’s squire had gotten him used to such strange things after all.

.o.o.o.

“So the riots were over a perceived lack of…security of interests?” Tyrion asked dryly.

“Well, that’s according to the smiths, cobblers, and scribes, my lord,” Guildmaster Havren said. “The weavers also took a lot of damage from them and think they were caused by lack of actual security, that is, guards. And then the potters and bankers together seem to say both while the fishermen and traders-”

“All right, all right, no one agrees on what the hell started the rioting,” Tyrion said. “What has been done about it?”

“Well, the blacksmiths and cobblers got some of their younger members together in a sort of militia, but then they got into a fight with the fishermen’s younger members who’d done the same. They say they both thought they others were potential rioters.”

“Of course they did,” Bronn said, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t say I _believed_ them,” Havren said. “I said what they’ve told me. I know the various guilds have various grievances between them but really what worries me is that the riots felt far too planned.”

“As in they were not spontaneous in reaction to the news of my father’s death?” Tyrion asked.

“Correct. I’ve seen spontaneous riots before, back in the days of your grandfather as Lord, and those built on themselves, fueled themselves in a way,” Havren said. “These seemed pre-fueled.”

“You think someone plotted for it to happen?” Bronn asked. “Did you capture any of the rioters, by chance?”

“None alive,” Havren admitted, shrugging.

“Well that makes no sense at all,” Tyrion said. “It’s usually very easy to get a hold of someone involved in such a thing and lock them up somewhere one there’s a proper response by guards. The lack of surviving prisoners does point to a plan…they knew they’d be questioned, likely.”

“We did have one man, but he was mute,” Havren continued.

“So? Mute men can still communicate,” Bronn said. “He deaf too or something?”

“No, but he jumped out a window when his jailer went looking for someone who could interpret his gestures,” Havren admitted, looking quite shamefaced.

“So he escaped,” Tyrion drawled.

“No. The window was quite high.”

“…So he was either stupid or a martyr. Grand,” Bronn groaned.

“Be more worried if he was a martyr,” Tyrion said. “Do you have any personal theories, guildmaster?”

“Well, some traders have mentioned hasslings on the road from an odd group,” Havren said. “The Brotherhood, or something like that. No house insignias or anything, no real identifying symbols.”

“So there’s a group out there clever enough not to make an obvious marker of membership and they are for some reason displeased with Lannisport and therefore likely the Lannisters?” Tyrion asked. “How very lovely. Get me reports from all of the merchants hassled in a week, no more. Less if you can.”

“No insignias? Sound like a bunch of sellswords,” Bronn noted.

“But in that case are they being paid by someone…or motivated some other way?” Tyrion wondered.

“A full band of sellswords would be costly,” Bronn noted. “More swords, more money. Basic business.”

“So possibly sellswords working under another motivation than money…” Tyrion said. “But in that case, what?”

“Only thing stronger than the call of cash for most is revenge,” Bronn noted. “And your lord father was never too concerned about making enemies…”

Tyrion silently damned his father for that. It was where Cersei went wrong too, assuming that once one had enough power one could afford to alienate whomever one pleased. It was also why he wasn’t entirely willing to think Littlefinger had acted alone…

“Well, assure your various merchants and such that I am personally handling the security troubles,” Tyrion told Havren. “Believe me, the ability of my holdings to stay safe is of paramount importance to me in such times as these.”

.o.o.o.

_Joffrey had declared a “family dinner” should take place. Tyrion had no idea why he wanted a “family dinner” when the families involved were as likely to murder each other as eat, but given the boy’s proclivities maybe he’d like that?_

_Thankfully given the shape of the table Sansa was safely between himself and Tommen and across from the Lady Olenna. Cersei had taken the foot and Joffrey they head, with the three Tyrells rounding out the other side. Loras had been placed closer to Cersei—and therefore across from Tommen—possibly to stop him from having a mental break at being too close to the king he clearly hated. And, well, Queen Margaery had to sit next to her husband. There was that._

_Then again, relative safety was nice and all, but it was a little hard to eat given Joffrey’s topic of the evening._

_“So I think if we used wildfire, we’d have a real shot at killing them all easily,” the king said._

_“There is little vegetation around the Eyrie, my king,” Tyrion said. “And stone does not burn.”_

_“But wildfire also_ explodes _,” Joffrey said._

_“Not with enough force to shake the mountain, and if you wanted to place it by the Eyire itself you’d need a plan on how to do so without all the men instructed to do so dying,” Tyrion said. “I have been there, nephew. It is a formidable fortress and requires careful planning to destroy.”_

_“Perhaps if you found the right sneaky men, then they could plant the wildfire?” Margaery asked, eyes wide and doe-like. How she could sound the epitome of innocence while casually tossing out war advice, Tyrion would never know. He wished he did, though. That kind of talent was useful for a lady. He’d like to take note of others using such skills and avoid them._

_“Ah, but my queen, how does a king go about hiring ‘sneaky men?’” Joffrey asked with a grand gesture. “I am, after all, a paragon of justice.”_

_Tyrion commended Sansa for not choking on her food at that. She looked like she was about to, but managed to avoid doing so anyway._

_“Just ask Varys,” Tommen said. “He’s sneaky. He must know others who are.”_

_And now the eight-year-old had entered the fray. And with surprisingly sound advice. No wonder he was Tyrion’s favorite nephew…oh, right, the other one was insane…how much wine had he_ had _by now? Maybe he should take leave of it for a bit…_

_Then Sansa ventured to speak and Tyrion knew he’d need more wine, not less._

_“He has a point your grace. After all, you have such an air of_ right _about you that I’m sure any ‘sneaky man’ Varys could find would take the chance_ just _to have one so magnificent say he did well.”_

_Oh good, she’d learned to play to Joff’s ego. He’d have to thank the new queen for that._

_“Oh, any would give anything to gain the king’s heartfelt praise!” Margaery agreed._

_Joffrey smirked and preened under the attention from two lovely ladies. By the gods, if only he was that easily maneuvered all the time._

_Less wine._ Definitely _less wine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the plot finally starts moving now that we're established. While Havren is an OC, he does occupy a position that does typically exist in these setting so I'm hoping he's okay.   
> So now we see the start of Joffrey's plans against the Eyrie. Since he's being out-planned by Tommen, they might need work.


	7. A Lady's Touch

“I don’t like them.”

“Well, neither do I, but clearly I can pretend to like someone better than you,” Sansa said. “For goodness sake, Shae, you looked like you were one wrong remark away from maiming one of them!”

“Well they looked like they wanted to eat us alive, so there,” Shae said.

“Um…is this…about the ladies you were meeting with?” Podrick asked nervously. “Lord Tyrion was wondering how that went.”

“Well, we avoided disaster. Maybe,” Sansa said, shooting Shae a look.

“That Lady Rosora looked like she wanted your innards on a stick.”

“See, it’s that attitude you need to work on,” Sansa said as Pod slowly mouthed “innards on a stick?” with a shocked expression. Poor boy had a lot to learn about ladies, it seemed.

“I’m not sure how anything I do will do us any good,” Shae said.

“Shae, if there’s anything I learned from the Queen—no, not Cersei, _Margaery_ , so don’t give me that look—it’s that a lady must fight her battles with courtesy,” Sansa said. “Even when she’d rather use the knife that’s still under her skirts after all this time.”

“And it is going nowhere, my lady,” Shae said. “And I don’t see ‘courtesy’ being a good substitute for it any time soon.”

“Shae, the knife is _lovely_ in case of an emergency, but…well, today wasn’t an emergency. Today is what we’ll be doing a lot,” Sansa said. “And I’m not saying you cannot make your barbs, I’m saying make them _so_ politely that the person you’re insulting can’t object.”

“Remind me to ask how the Queen of Thorns gets away with it all,” Shae sighed.

“She’s old, her husband is deceased, and her _son_ is technically the ruler of Highgarden even if we Smart Folk know it’s really her,” Sansa said. “Until you are in such a position, Shae, all you’ll do is make enemies faster than my sister-in-law does. And while I know you are a better woman than her in every way, perhaps you don’t need to beat her at that?”

“That was underhanded…you _are_ learning something,” Shae noted, smirking. “All right, so what did we get from chatting with the pampered ladies of the Rock, anyway?”

“Well, we know most of them are content with being wealthy wives of wealthy men,” Sansa said. “They’re not used to having a head Lady about the Rock since it’s been so long since there’s been one. And they’re pretty much all convinced that I’m an odd northern girl who is out of her depth and you are an odd foreign lady who is the same.”

“Idiots,” Shae huffed, biting into an apple.

“Oh, no arguments there,” Sansa said. “But we need to make sure they don’t all run back to their lords whining at once or we’ll risk complicating things for Tyrion.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Shae asked.

“I’m suggesting we come up with a way of distracting them from their ire,” Sansa said. “A diversion.”

“…We could just have Podrick walk through the room. The single ones seem quite taken with him.”

Sansa shot poor Pod a pitying look, “Let’s…not take advantage of the new knight just yet, Shae. I do like the creativity, though.”

.o.o.o.

Brienne had been instantly taken into Queen Margaery’s “care” when she had brought Jaime Lannister back to his family, with the young queen claiming Brienne had often protected her when they were both “fooled” by Renly and could be trusted to guard her grandmother, “oh won’t you please, my lord king? My grandmother is frail and I worry someone may harm her to get to me?”

And so now she was technically employed by the Mad Fool King.

Brienne didn’t like it. Jaime had admittedly spent the majority of the trip warning her to play down her loyalties when they reached court, but this was intolerable. _Everyone_ she was supposed to protect was already dead except for that blonde idiot who didn’t seem to know if he wanted to hug his twin sister or run away from her and Sansa who’d been married to the idiot’s brother.

There, was however, one upside.

“And they put you in with a bear and you survived _how long_ until the Kingslayer decided to play the hero?”

Lady Olenna Tyrell found her amusing, and in a seemingly good way.

“A decent amount of time,” Brienne replied.

“With only a wooden sword and a pink dress? Well, I feel safer with you than the king must feel with the Kingsguard!” Olenna chortled.

“My thanks.”

“And then the idiot, still newly missing a hand, just jumped in the pit with you?”

“He was counting on fear of his father’s displeasure at his death,” Brienne said. “So they would panic and call off the bear.”

“Ah. So…this was then Tywin was alive, then? Such a worry would not hold now.”

“I think Ser Jaime’s brother and sister might also be unhappy at his demise,” Brienne noted.

“Ah yes. The half-man might be the worse of the two. Cersei barely even commands respect now, much less loyal troops,” Olenna said. “But the Lord of Casterly Rock…well, I’ve heard many a tale of the Blackwater, my knight, and the ones from more trusted sources tell me he fought quite well and cleverly. Always beware the clever ones most. The Cleanege brothers might maim or kill you, but a smart one like the Imp could do far worse if pushed.”

“Such as?” Brienne asked.

“He commands many more than himself, my dear. Think about it,” Olenna replied.

She’d rather not. More Lannister troops were not a thing this world needed. “I suppose an army is nothing to sneeze at.”

“Army? I meant that one sellsword he pays. Bronn, was it?” Olenna asked. Brienne knew the older woman was only playing at guessing, after all, there was no way _Brienne_ would know the name of Tyrion Lannister’s sellsword. “And that squire, knight now, Podrick Payne. Loyal for different reasons, but loyal nonetheless.”

“I’d hardly think of a sellsword as loyal.”

“They’re loyal to money, and the Imp is now the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms,” Olenna said. “Bronn’s smart enough, for a man with a sword. He’ll stay with that money.”

“So you think two loyal men are more important than all the vassals he has now?” Brienne asked. Olenna was telling her something, but she just wasn’t seeing it.

“Ah, but are those vassals just going to follow the Imp? ‘Hmm, well, he treats his current two knights well, maybe he won’t be so bad?’”Olenna said. “He wants more loyal men. Because he wants loyalty to _him_ , not Cersei.”

“So this is all a play for loyalty?” Brienne asked.

“Men would give anything to have a decent amount of soldiers loyal to them as you were to Renly,” Olenna said. “Loyalty means they’ll stay even when it all goes to hell.”

.o.o.o.

_“And then he had the_ gall _to offer me a bag of diamonds and transport to Essos!” Shae complained._

_“How is that gall, exactly?” Sansa asked._

_“I’m not leaving Tyrion. Nor you, now. Look at this mess you’re all in. One man’s dead, his killer is clear, and yet Tyrion, you, and random other people are being accused of having done it. Madness,” Shae said, redoing Sansa’s braids._

_“I take it you won’t be going anywhere any time soon, then?” Sansa asked. “Despite this being quite literally the most dangerous place about?”_

_“Dangerous. Ha. I’m too beneath you nobles to be in much danger. If I was in a whorehouse I’d be having bad sex and possibly beatings, if I was off in Essos I’d probably get killed in the streets within a month. That’s what happens to rich whores over there. No thank you,” Shae said._

_“I’m interested into where Varys got the diamonds.”_

_“Probably those ‘sneaky men’ you and the queen were talking about at dinner. Here’s an idea, kick the blonde brat out and let you two run the kingdom. Two gorgeous young queens, what man in the world would deny you?” Shae asked._

_“Well, perhaps then we could install a harlot as Hand. I’m sure there’s one available,” Sansa mused. “Tell me, handmaid, do you know a clever woman who has been paid for sex?”_

_“Or I could be lady of whispers!” Shae declared. “Get those men to tell me everything in the pillows. Give the Hand to the queen’s grandmother, the money to…well, I think Tyrion could still have the money.”_

_“Tyrion hates having the money,” Sansa noted. “I didn’t pay that much attention right after our marriage, but that was clear from the start.”_

_“Well, someone needs to,” Shae said. “And that way I wouldn’t need to worry about you getting married off. Gods only know where you’d be shipped off to. I need to keep an eye on you, my lady. You’re an attractor of all sorts of trouble.”_

_“And Tyrion’s not?” Sansa asked dryly._

_“Tyrion’s a man, he can handle himself—get out!” Shae yelped as Podrick ran into the room._

_The squire looked guilty and averted his eyes, “Um…the queen wants to talk to Sansa.”_

_“Why?” Sansa asked as Shae quickly grabbed a dress and started helping her pull it on._

_“I don’t…know,” Podrick said. “Lord Tyrion said to come up with a reason you couldn’t come. I wanted to ask you what.”_

_“…Ill. Ate too quickly last night,” Sansa said, shoving the dress away and walking to the bed as Pod redirected his gaze in order to keep her out of it. “She’d have to come here to ask me anything. I’m so dreadfully sorry, I mean, poor Shae’s been cleaning up my sick all morning.”_

_“…Right,” Shae said, nodding. “Please go tell the queen, Pod.”_

.o.o.o.

“All I’m saying is that they don’t make any sense,” Shae complained.

“And now that you know that you may begin to act accordingly,” Tyrion said. “Shae, much of court, whether royal or merely noble, is a construct. A fabrication of civility so we can say we are better because we do this or that. And so a lot of us, especially ladies with few duties, invent things to do that frankly make no sense.”

“I’m not sure why embroidery is a pastime, now that I think about it,” Sansa admitted. “I mean, it makes nice adornments for clothing, but as a pastime for noble ladies…”

“Well a pastime is, by definition, a way of passing time, and embroidery take a lot of it up,” Shae said. “No wonder so many noble women go mad. You must all be so bored if you’re not playing that blasted Game of Thrones Tyrion’s bitch of a sister’s always on about.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Tyrion said. “Though if you could be bothered to root out people who might be speaking in my sister’s ear, that’d be lovely. I’ve got my hands full with the men who are doing it.”

“She’ll get suspicious if she stops hearing anything,” Sansa noted.

“Yes, but if we know who the spies are, we can simply assure she doesn’t hear the right things,” Tyrion said.

“Or only talk about embroidery around them,” Shae said.

.o.o.o.

“So it was a conspiracy!”

“To do what?” Jaime asked Cersei. “Hide a whore from father? Oh the shock of it all. Tyrion’s been hiding whores for years. You have no idea the places he’s had some of them.”

Jaime quietly reminisced about some of those. It’d been under his bed, once. Even Cersei hadn’t noticed, despite walking in why Tyrion and the girl were still there.

“No, it was a conspiracy between him, the whore, and the Stark girl!” Cersei said. “Again, to do what? Tyrion might not like you, but he had no reason to kill Joffrey. Dislike him, yes, but kill him, no.”

“He wanted the Rock!”

“Which cannot have been the intention of the poisoner as it was aimed at the king, not Father,” Jaime said. “Cersei, when you go off like this, it always ends up pushing you from power. Now the Tyrells have all-but isolated Joff because he sees you as trying to control him. And, well, we’re all trying to control him, but you’re being too obvious. And blaming that on Tyrion makes no sense.”

Frankly most of what she’d been on about made no sense. Technically Sansa was no longer a “Stark” anything, she was a “Lannister” something now. Tyrion conspiring against the family made no sense, he was a Lannister and might have disliked some members, but he’d help the family overall hold to power. And of what consequence was him keeping around a favorite whore?

“So what would you have me do? Let the Tyrells run roughshod?” Cersei demanded.

“No. Be more subtle. You’re so clever, you know you can,” Jaime said. Cersei might not have been as smart as Tyrion or father, but she _could_ do this, he knew she could. “Work with Uncle Kevan on getting some power back into the lion’s paws.”

“Why do you always ignore things for his sake?” she sighed, loosening her bodice.

Jaime tried not to roll his eyes. He’d had her plenty since getting back, this was really not the time for another tumble. “Because I know he’d not after the family any more than I am. If we leave him alone he won’t do a thing against us. He’s alone with his women, really, that’s all Tyrion ever wants.”

.o.o.o.

“So now she’s Lady of Casterly Rock,” Lem said. “Well, as much as a hostage is a lady.”

“Do you think she’s betrayed us?” Jack-Be-Lucky asked.

Harwin glanced at Lady Stoneheart, “Like you said. She’s a hostage. Commonfolk don’t need to know that so they don’t say it and call her their lady.”

“Bit surprised a hostage is allowed to traipse about Lannisport with just a couple guards and a handmaid,” Thoros noted.

“Because Lannisport is full of _Lannister_ men,” Harwin said as if it was obvious. “She’d be dead if she ran.”

“We’ll find a way,” Lady Stoneheart whispered. “We will find a way to save her.”

“Aye, the Lannisters will know of us before long anyway,” Lem said. “Once we amass enough power, we can bargain with them. We’ll just need the right hostage.”

“So for now we wait,” Harwin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at how all the women on the board for now are acting. Shae's chafing in the new position, Cersei's still slipping, Margaery's planning and consdiering, Breinne's confused, Olenna is plotting, Sansa is trying to make things work, and Lady Stoneheart has shown up at last.   
> So, yeah. Saw how they're going to handle Shae in the show now. Not happy that she went from wanting to protect Sansa with her life to being so jealous of the girl she can't see straight. Really not what I'd hoped they'd do. Oh well, that's what fics like this are for.


End file.
